Feelings Tend To Get In The Way : Oneshot
by Cant.Resist
Summary: A force sensitive in the MU unit, and she's hopelessly in love with Hux? Kylo Ren is amused and disgusted at the prospect. Even more so when she flees from his words, despite desperately denying so. The tragedy of facing the evitable.


So I kind of went of a Star Wars binge for the last week or so, watched all seven of the movies. Twice. Then read tons of fanfiction, I thought I might try my hand at it. I've never attempted to do so in this genre, but I cannot seem to write anything else until I had finished this through. If not completely correct, I'm sorry I tried. This is set for after the destruction of the Starkiller base.

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 _. Enjoy!_

* * *

 _Pain. Destruction_. These feelings burned her with white hot fury. The _screams_ , the _torture_ , _so much death._

She bolted upright in her semi comfortable bed. Her nightdress clung to sweat drench skin. She patted her head, some hair had worked its way out of its tightly required braid. Her head throbbed with the fear, radiating from where she didn't know. She must have tapped into someone else's dreams, she figured. More likely a nightmare. She shivered, knowing that something like this would happen when they moved the FN barracks closer to the medical wing. Usually well reserved, but in her sleep, her mind would wandered. She could feel the heat creep to her cheeks, nearly two months ago she locked unto someone having a wet dream. She hadn't been able to even look at that Stormtrooper's armor for weeks without remembering their keen attraction to others feet. Oh god, she could feel that familiar throb between her legs. She eyed her refresher from across the dark room. A quick cold shower would clear her mind. She was thankful for small miracles. Being the head of an entire unit on board of the Finalizer afforded her, her own quarters separate from the others. And informally a name of her own choosing, _Patrice._ To other units she was still MU 8100 but those in her unit, she was Patrice. And all of them answered to her.

Alarms and sirens began blaring alike. Patrice barely had dried her hair when the announcement was made.

 **"All MU units report immediately to the medical bay. Incoming troops are needed of assistance. Command center to MU units, immediately report to the medical bay."**

She quickly threw on her black uniform, plaiting her hair into its braid. She gave herself a once over before leaving her quarters. Her outward appearance was expressionless, but inner turmoil ensued. She needed to keep her cool, she needed to embody a steady exterior. If she set an example, her workers would follow suit. Whatever was happening was not good. She gently pushed the panel, the door opening with a crack. A flurry of Stormtroopers and medical attendants were rushing down the corridor. If she still were in private, she would have rolled her eyes at the sight. Immediate instruction didn't mean for everyone to get excited and lose their heads.

"Everyone please move in an orderly fashion!" A man with sandy blonde hair was wheeling a bloodied trooper passed her door. "MU 7224!" He paused saluting her, despite the protests of the groaning trooper.

"Miss Patrice?" She huffed at the misstep in decorum. She rolled her head in annoyance, 7224 visibly flinched at the crack of her neck. Names were only spoken in the comfort of their unit, nowhere else.

"Deploy all medi-droids and make room in the west wing." He stood still staring intently at her as if she had more to say. "Sooner than later MU 7224!"

* * *

The amount of causalities piling into the medical bay was overwhelming, each attendant had literally two minutes to diagnose an injury. Bad cases were immediately sent to a droid for surgery, others without instant life threatening injuries were order to wait quietly. Patrice was running back and forth across the room, trying to assist anyone needing team lifts or a second set of steady hands. After about three hours into the madness, a wave a nausea came over her.

"MU 8100! Observation deck." She turned her head, watching a team of Stormtroopers fly by the window with black covered body on a gurney. _Kylo Ren was hurt_. She dashed towards the bay doors, signaling them to a surgery prep room. The only place semi private for the moment. She snapped her fingers, two droids deployed towards him. She dismissed the Stormtroopers from the room. The droids began cutting his clothing from him. She ran towards the observation deck, she could hear the General pace and yell at his subordinates. "High priority patient, as told by Supreme leader."

"Are you alright Armit-" she paused there were others around. "General," she corrected. She had never seen the General so disheveled in public before. His eyes were rimmed red and his hair a skew. Tight lipped, he just glared daggers at her. "Do you need any assistance General?"

"No. But Ren will need whatever is deemed necessary. Supreme Leader wants him stable."

"He will be." She promised. "What happened?"

"Ren overestimated the enemy and we lost substantially."

"Well what did-" she stopped watching his gaze narrow from over her shoulder.

"The starkiller base is no more." He admitted, her eyes nearly doubled in size.

"General Hux, Supreme leader has requested your presence immediately." Someone spoke from behind her, he nodded. There was a pregnant pause.

Then he barked out, "back to your station. NOW!" Patrice could hear the heavy pair of boots quickly clamor away in a different direction. "Idiots," he muttered under his breath. He side stepped her, whispered quietly, "meet me in my quarters at 2100 hours. Do your damnedest to keep Ren alive for our sake." He stomped away, his posture erect and his outer appearance menacingly as possible. Despite his best efforts, she could feel his fear radiate from deep within.

* * *

"Enter." The door buzz letting Patrice through. She saw the General brooding over a counter, his back to her. She eyed the empty bottle, he had been nursing temperament with alcohol. She placed the carrier on the floor and slowly walked over to him. She was trying to gauge his mood. Angry and fear bubbled from him.

"General?" She asked before gently resting her hand on his shoulder. His body tense, she nearly gasp when he grasp her hand with lightening speed and precise. Disgust, humiliation poured from his touch. His stance was angry, and authoritative. He wasn't in the mood to speak of his failures.

"What have you been told about touching others without their permission?" His eyes penetrated into hers, she could feel the desperation from them. They were glossed over, his clear complexion blotchy, his breath hot and abrasive. Almost a hint of cherry. Maybe from a sherry or brandy?

"I thought a familiar face or two would improve your mood." He didn't respond other than his leather bound fingers intertwine her bare ones. "Sir?"

"Patrice." Her name purred from his lips. "Come closer." At first she was hesitant, but sway instantly. Her commanding officer demanded control, no, he absolutely _oozed_ the need to be in control. Something he had lost in the past day's events. And now, she would be the one to give it to him.

"Yes?" In all her power she tried to alleviate his worries, to make the trying burdens placed on his shoulders disappear. She rested her cheek against his smooth one. He breathed in her flowery scent, definitely feminine, definitely something he would not smell on anyone other than her. He growled as the welcomed arousal stirred in his bones. She knew just how to distract him.

"Remove your uniform slowly." She backed away, undoing the sash to her top.

"Yes, General." He leaned back drinking in the sight of her nimble fingers working away the ugliness of her clothing. By the third button, he mentally sighed at her snail pace. He wanted to enjoy this command, but he also wanted to take her now. He finished his drink, putting his other hand up to signal her to cease. He finally got to glimpse at the lace brasserie and panties she was wearing beneath.

"I don't remember these being standard issue." He commented on, not that he didn't mind. Maybe these items should be standard issue, just for her.

"They're not." She answered, looking devilishly curious at him.

"Breaking the rules already _Patrice_? Wouldn't want to send you for reconditioning, now would we?" The half attempt at threatening her made her extremely needy at the moment.

"Maybe General, you could hand out your own brand of punishment?" Suddenly, he tore rest of her uniform from her. He pushed hard on her shoulders.

"Get on your knees." She smiled once again, looking up from the floor waiting patiently for him to undone his belt. She knew better, she didn't do anything without his explicit command. "You understand that you need to be out of here before the morning?" She nodded, knowing the act would leave her feeling cheap, but at the moment she just wanted to feel whole again. He pulled a fist full of her hair. "Yes, _what?_ "

" **Yes sir**." He smirked, finally unsheathing himself from his uniform. She licked her lips in anticipation.

"Now show your commanding officer how dirty of a slut you are."

* * *

Patrice melted into his post coitus embrace. He was a very affectionate man, when he wanted to be. He had returned the favor, over and over again. She sighed in contentment.

"Tell me," he twisted a locked of her tussle hair, "who is the other familiar face?" She smiled, flicking her fingers lazily. He turned his attention towards the hiss and click of a lock. She continued grinning despite his discomfort. Her bourgeois attitude when using the force in front of him, reminded him too much of Ren, he _supposed equal_. But then again, he had exerted his dominance over a force sensitive made him feel extremely powerful in his own right. Magical powers or not, he was the General of the First Order and he alone was in this position outright because of his talent. He dared to smirk as a blur of orange fluff shot across his quarters. _Millicent_ was back.

* * *

"Commander is the pain better today?" She asked in a calm tone. He had refused everyone besides the head of the unit, but still gave no vocal opinion about it. His eyes remained shut. She waited a moment more before moving in. "I'm going to check the bandages and IV. It might irritate you." Still no words, only a stillness. He was awake but didn't want to bother acknowledging her presence. She pulled back the wrap from his side wound, before it was rather deep, now looked like a mere abrasion. Stitching was minimal, but needed to be watched. Tearing now could have consequences. Bacta would be necessary to keep in clean. She turned to the tray she had brought with, which was next to her left, his head. Nothing but the best for Lord Ren. It would be her and Artimage's head if something wer-

"What are you doing?" The voice and sudden attention startled her.

"I'm going to tend to your side wound first, it's healing rather well. But I would like to still treat it." She turned back ready to massage in a dollop of bacta to his injury. "This might sting." She looked up to notice he was ignoring her again. She decided to rub it quickly into his side, making sure that everything in the surrounding area was covered. She went to pull her hand back, and stared at it confused. The substance in her hand was now clear and less dense, much like body oil. She jumped, seeing unclothed body beneath her. Instead of being riddled with gauze and hoses from IV's, it was pale and familiar. She knew this body, the one lone freckle by his belt line proved just that. She shuddered and closed her eyes. _How inappropriate of her!_ She opened her eyes again, bringing her back to her senses. She wrapped his wound with extreme delicacy, embarrassed by what she had just done. "Now I'm going to check your shoulder. Same warnings aside." Not too bad, she thought, this was superficial. Out of all of his injuries this one would be the candidate for no scarring. A fresh bacta patch would do nicely. She began to peel back the old wrap and she applied the new. She smoothed out the corners, trying to make sure they wouldn't bother his skin. His skin was previously unblemished, unlike many soldiers she had seen previously. It would be a shame to let someone who wielded such power carry such tainted flesh. He wasn't just any soldier.

 _Much more flexed and taunt than Hux_. It almost felt like someone had whispered it to her. Her hands went flying up as she looked down at Ren, he was still blatantly trying to ignore her. Out of her side vision she could visibly take in the uncomfortable vibe her unit felt by her. She had to gain a hold of herself. Hopefully he missed her musings and daze transgressions.

"Lord Ren. I am going to need you to do a series of tasks for me. One will be to open your eyes." They stared up at her. No irritation, seem to have basic motor function as he followed her finger. "Okay now, I need you to close your eyes again as I apply a sav to the wound." She noticed she would have to get up on the table in order to extend to both sides of his head. It's like he purposely moved out of her limited reach. "I'm going to lean over you as I apply this, you will need to lie extremely still." No replied, as expected. She began applying the necessary amount, she could see the edges of his skin contort on the contours of his face. She realized about halfway through she would need another tube to sufficiently douse the wound. She turned back to her table readjusting her gloves, and jumped once again. "Hux?" She whispered. Instead of Kylo Ren, General Hux was beneath her with an equally bad facial wound.

 _Patrice._ Oh god, she was nearly in tears. He couldn't be hurt too.

"Are you almost done?" She blinked, staring at the Commander once more. She eyed the other tube she dropped, she would have to lean over his head in order to reach it. She shook her head, she was not pushing her chest in his face in order to obtain it.

"Yes, sir. Just one more coat." No one would notice her just-

 _Stop._ She froze, her hand caught in one of his. The tube dropped back on the table. His eyes locked with hers. _Now, this is what Hux has been hiding from me._

 _'You've been toying with me all this time.'_ The accusation was clear. But he ignored her thought.

 _Another force user hidden within the ranks. Why do you hide?_

 _'I am not fit for battle_.' He smirked up at her.

 _Too much compassion._

 _'Amplifying other's emotions is a useless talent.'_

 _Manipulating others, playing with their fears, would be a strong deterrent._

 _'I don't dwell on fear, I alleviate them.'_

 _Is that your purpose for Hux? To give the squirming General peace of mind? From what I have seen, you don't need the force to do just that._ Anger flourish beneath the surface, but quickly evaporated as it appeared.

"I think I was mistaken. You should be fine. I will have a droid change the IV's in about an hour. She yanked her hand from his grasp and leapt off the bed.

 _You love him_ , his voice sounded disgusted in her head.

"Commander, please release me." She quietly demanded, the air was tense. Everyone within a few feet froze at the sight of Kylo's outstretched hand and Patrice's stiff, previously retreating form. **No one** told Kylo Ren what to do. No one who wanted to live, told the short tempered knight what to do. Or what he didn't want to hear.

 _Make me_ , _MU 8100_ , his voice challenged inside her mind.

"No. You will stop from your own volition."

 _Why do you deflect from this game? I know you could attempt in my weaken state._ Her feet dragged as he turned her to face him. _Do you resent the truth? Always a lover, never a wife._ Deep down her heart wanted to thud in a panic, but she exuded an err of stillness, a forgiving neutrality. _The lowly worker could never marry a general._ The calming before the storm. She desperately hope she coax his palpable distress and squelching anger, to manageable discomfort.

"You won't be able to play on your terms with me. I am above you." His actual voice was stern and raspy, his face showing a glint of frustration. She studied his recovering form, as it tried in vain to repair itself quicker. His own bumbling fixes held little promise of long term success, he needed to stop exerting himself. He could bleed out, if he were to keep moving. A tinged of sympathy filled her. Finally her eyes rested upon his marred face, her observations had not gone unnoticed. Their eyes connected, her heart bubbled with a small flutter of-oh, no. Her eyes now narrowed at his seemingly smug, she influenced others not the other way around.

"I am not here to sate your needs for entertainment." She stated carefully, as others descended from the room. They didn't want to witness their commanding officer snap her neck. His lips formed from a coy smile to a petulant smirk.

"But you are for Hux?" Patrice's cheeks blared red with heat of embarrassment and rage. How dare he suggest-how he? He chuckled at her thoughts.

"None of that is your business." She growled out. He was amused at her bitter tone, she had no ground here. His might was gaining as propelled his body into a sitting position. Now in a spot to mock her directly.

"He is beneath you." She scoffed at the remark. Her fists clenched at the implication. _You know it to be true MU 8100._

"He is the General of the First Order, he commands thousands, no, millions to do his biddings in the name of the Supreme Leader Snoke." She tried to defend him.

"As well as I." He simply put, enticing fire underneath. He could feel a rage similar to his own, stoke below the surface. She was losing some of her control. "The confidence you have instilled in him is misplaced." _As well as your affection_ , he added.

"How dare you-" she started, he interrupted.

"How dare I what? You know as well as me that, _Hux_ ," he spat out with a snarl, "like the others are not like **us**." Her outer resolve was crumbling, he could feel the pressure of her rage. The tightening of her force, the unilateral push of her emotions. Her true purpose, her true power as an empath. Her medical training was secondary to the power she held back. Her powers were undeveloped and well below his, but she was above most the pathetic peons on board, and most certainly Hux. "You see, the _confidence_ , the _determination_ , the _ambition_ is largely encouraged, _enhanced,_ by **you**. By your gifts. And yet, you waste them on pitiful beings as him." He nearly gasped at the push, she had broke.

"He is twice the man you would ever dre-" she clawed at her throat this time. His power only grew stronger with the anger she fueled him with.

"I would never stoop as low as your deceptive mind seems to believe." He voice grew an edge, a primal growl to it. "He is nothing next to me. The master of the Knights of Ren. The apprentice of the Supreme Leader." He was nearly panting at the end of his rant, a pause came between them. He coughed hard enough to spew some blood. His blood. _You'll never be as strong as Darth Vader._ Patrice replayed the scavenger girl's words in his head.

His hold on her lessen as the icy grip of disappointment overwhelmed him. He coughed harder this time, his lungs sputtering for air as he tried to push the weight of emotion from him.

"I am no tool for you to abuse. I am not here to move aside the confliction that still plagues you. You are afraid and you want me to disperse this hindrance from you, but I can't." She sighed, "This is a battle only you can fight."

"Denying my command is a snub the Supreme Leader himself." He declared. She tilted her head at him, as another wave of disappointment envelope him into another respiratory fit.

"When you want to tell him, you'll know where to find me." She turned from him, and finally her hold on him ceased as the door the med bay swished shut. His fingers twitched for his saber, he wanted nothing more than to split her traitorous body in half, but. He couldn't help but feel some pride, she had after all called his bluff.

Their next encounter wouldn't be so- he couldn't decipher it exactly. But no matter what, he would be stronger next time, and she couldn't escape that.


End file.
